


The Awesome Will Find A Way

by Tassledown



Series: Russia and Prussia [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Archive warning for past sexual assault, Human Names Used, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mention of AusHunPrus, Nightmares, PTSD, Trans character (Prussia), Virginity issues, implied csa, trauma memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia only rarely has nightmares, but sometimes even bad dreams leave a bad feeling behind that won't go away. Russia, who can sleep like a rock sometimes, doesn't have the decency to sleep through it. It's a bad time to have the conversation Prussia has been avoiding - forever, if possible, thank you very much - but he's upset and Russia's so very solid and there he doesn't want to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Awesome Will Find A Way

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime during the later part of the Soviet Era, no time period in particular in mind. References obliquely one of my earlier RusPrus fics, but doesn't require having read it to understand.

Gil woke up shaky and feeling sick. He tried to put the nightmare out of his mind and, to his relief, he hadn't been sleeping alone that night. He pressed into the line of Ivan's body and wrapped his arms around his chest. Ivan was comfortably solid and large against him.

His skin crawled with the edges of the memory.

 _Stupid, fucking whore, you'll never be good enough for someone to care about you_. _Why would you bother a priest with your excuses?_

Gil closed his eyes and ground his teeth. He knew that. He should never bother going to a church, they weren't capable of handling someone as disgusting as him.

Ivan shifted under him and Gil realized he'd dug his nails into his skin.

“What is it?” Ivan murmured.

“Sorry,” Gil loosened his hands and leaned up to kiss him on the mouth. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

Ivan kissed him gently back and wrapped his arms around his back. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Gilbert smiled. He inhaled his smell and tried to feel him for what he was: the chill breath of Russia, the calls of the soviets and the great expanse of the steppes to the east.

He'd pressed harder against him as he breathed. Ivan turned and wrapped around him more. His leg pressed up between Gil's legs. Gil rubbed back out of habit and abruptly he was aware of just how aroused his body was.

 _Told you, you filthy slut_. _Look at you, soaking through your pants again._

Gil closed his eyes hard. He bit the inside of his cheek until the urge to cry passed, but his body was still tense and remembered the feeling of Ivan's cock inside him. He wanted it desperately, that reminder of how much Ivan liked him. How much he liked fucking him.

_It was the only reason Ivan liked him now, anyways._

Ivan moved his leg away from his body with an amused noise. “Good dreams?”

“Yeah,” Gil breathed and opened his eyes to smile up at him. His body had certainly thought so.

Ivan stroked his hand along Gil's neck and frowned. “Was it?”

Gil made a face at him. “What?”

“You seem... subdued.”

Gil sighed and cuddled up against his chest again, hiding his face before Ivan noticed anything else. “It was about the past. Something from a long time ago.”

“You do not talk about it as though it was a good dream.”

“It's not that great in hindsight, but I liked it at the time.”

_You like it when I treat you like a little whore._

“Ah,” Ivan lowered his hands to Gil's waist and turned onto his back, drawing Gil up to rest against his chest. “I see.”

It didn't look like Ivan got it, but Gil didn't want him to. He happily draped himself over Ivan's chest, trying to talk his body into calming down. He was still quivering; he didn't believe that Ivan just wanted him to curl up on his chest, but if Ivan started touching him more he might break his fingers or burst into tears and _that_ would be awful.

He knew, he _knew already_ , the only reason men wanted him around was to use him, to fuck that bleeding wound that wept until it was stopped up. At least Ivan liked that about him.

When his body didn't relax, Gilbert pushed himself up to kiss Ivan softly on the mouth, licking at his lips until he opened and kissed him back. Ivan was like an anchor of solid rock. Gil wanted to stay there, pressed against his lips until his eyes stopped burning with the urge to cry. His chest ached when he tried to get enough breath through his nose.

_Holes didn't need to breathe._

Gil broke off the kiss and gasped. “Please fuck me,” he whispered. He hoped Ivan didn't hear him; he hadn't meant to _say_ it but the thought wouldn't stop repeating itself in his head.

He wasn't lucky. Ivan made a pleased noise and slid his hand under Gil's stomach to stroke his fingers through his labia. Gil ground his teeth and forced his eyes shut, determined not to cry, not to make this worse.

Ivan's hand retreated just as quickly. He cupped Gil's chin to raise his head and look him in the face. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Gil growled. He couldn't open his eyes or he'd cry, goddammit.

_He had no right to cry. Virgins cried; children cried. He'd never been either._

Ivan rested his hands on Gil's back and went still. Gilbert dropped his face to his chest, the urge to cry still trying to strangle him. He didn't know what to do.

_Why didn't Ivan want him?_

“Please fuck me,” Gil said again, but he couldn't keep his voice even.

“You are upset about something,” Ivan said. “I do not want to make this worse.”

“Why does this matter now?” Gil laughed. “Why now, goddammit? You've hurt me before!”

“You are crying.”

“I know I'm goddamn crying, Ivan, shut up!” He could start dealing with this by clawing out Ivan's, then he could deal with his own traitorous eyes that wouldn't fucking stop crying. He didn't have the _right_ to cry. Why couldn't he stop?

Ivan exhaled hard enough Gil felt his chest surge beneath him, that giant anchor rocking undersea. He wiped the tears off Gilbert's cheeks with one hand. Gil slipped off the side of his chest and curled up with Ivan's upper arm as a pillow. Ivan's arm followed him off, still wrapped loosely around his waist.

When Gil hadn't spoken in some time, Ivan asked “What is wrong?”

His voice was soft enough Gil considered pretending he hadn't heard him. He curled up further and Ivan turned to spoon him, wrapping his other arm around Gil's stomach. Gil yelped and ducked away from his touch. Ivan swore under his breath and began to move away. Gil grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back around his body. He lost the battle with his tears.

“Please, please don't leave, I'm sorry,” Gil begged. “I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, please.”

Ivan froze. “Prussiya?”

“I'm sorry, I can't help it,” Gil sobbed. “I need you. I need you, please. Please stay with me.”

He felt disgusting and stupid, crying like a child who didn't know any better and thought the world would be fair.

_Who thought he was worth something more than his born sex._

Ivan relaxed around him and pulled him against his chest. “I will not leave you.”

“I want you to like me,” Gil mumbled. He scrubbed at his face as if he could get rid of the disgusting tears. “I don't want to be such a fucking mess. I'm better than this.”

“You have done nothing wrong.”

Gil shook his head. “I shouldn't cry when you want to touch me, dammit. I know better.”

Ivan didn't respond. He started to stroke Gil's hair, still holding him against his chest. Gil shifted in place, hyper aware of the fluid leaking down his legs as his body begged to be fucked, _to make it up to Ivan, to stop being such a bitch_. Ivan wasn't letting go of him, and he couldn't tell if Ivan wanted him: he was too high against his chest to feel if he was erect or not.

Gil squirmed in his arms and Ivan let him go until Gil pressed into his groin. Ivan pulled him back up against his chest and out of reach of it with a strangled noise, clamping his body against his chest.

“We are not having sex right now.”

Gil jerked out of his arms and sat up on the edge of the bed, hugging his stomach as it lurched. “I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to. I just wanted...”

_Wanted to think he wasn't sickening, when he knew better. He knew his body better than anyone._

“Gilbert, what is wrong?” Ivan asked, his voice soft. The bed moved as he sat up behind him.

Gil swallowed repeatedly and bent over his knees. “What... what don't you understand?”

“I do not know what will make you feel better. What did I do wrong?”

“It wasn't you,” Gil mumbled. “I'm just fucked up.”

Ivan made an annoyed noise. “I cannot help if I do not understand. Do you want me to hold you or not?”

Gil sat up and shifted towards him on the bed without really thinking about it. Ivan wrapped his arms slowly around his waist. Gil started to shiver, but Ivan didn't let go. His arms were soft and loose against his sides and around Gil's stomach.

“Why do you want sex right now?”

Gil swallowed and closed his eyes. He turned until he was facing Ivan's chest and made himself say it. “I want you to like me.”

“Do you think I only like you because we have sex?”

“I _know_ you do,” Gil muffled a laugh. “You were scared of me until we started having sex, Ivan, I'm not fucking stupid.” Not about that kind of thing, at any rate. He knew when he'd scared someone.

“Da, but I do not like you now because we have sex. I would not sleep with you in my bed if I did not like you for more than that by now.”

“We don't have to have sex if you don't want to.” His voice broke saying it, and Gil cursed himself mentally. He dug his nails into Ivan's back as fresh tears started down his face again.

“Prusska, I do not want sex now because you are crying,” Ivan said in a terribly reasonable tone. “I do not dislike you for not wanting sex now. I do not want to try when you are crying like you are.”

“I can stop crying,” Gil insisted. “I just had a bad dream, it makes it hard to –” He cut himself off and licked his lips. “Hard to stop.”

“Will sex make you feel better?”

_Fucking slut, you know it does. It's what you were made for._

“Yes,” Gil whispered, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, I like sex. It's – familiar.”

He could feel it as Ivan nodded above him, but he didn't speak. Gil's stomach turned over and he clung to Ivan as if to keep him with him.

“What was the bad dream?” Ivan asked.

Gil swallowed and pressed his cheek harder into his skin. “Just... memories. There was a... a priest I saw a lot when I was – when we were getting settled in the duchy, the Teutonic Knights. He...” There was a thousand things he could say to describe him. He didn't know where to start.

“Prusska?” Ivan said softly.

“We didn't get along,” Gil said weakly. He was shivering again and his eyes stung.

“Did he hurt you?”

Gil shook his head hard, not wanting to have this conversation with Ivan. “I just never met his standards, and he was unhappy he didn't have someone better representing the Knights.”

“Why?”

“I wasn't a virgin,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Couldn't be, really. I always had someone. It was fucking ridiculous for a monastic order, that's all.”

Ivan snofted faintly. “I can see that. You love people too much to not be with them.”

“Yeah, like that.” Gil laughed weakly. “It's hard to be something you never were.”

“Were you much older than the Order?”

Gil turned his face into his chest again and didn't answer, struggling to breathe past the lump in his throat. He pulled his legs up more and very carefully swallowed so that Ivan wouldn't notice him doing so.

“Gilbert?” Ivan said softly.

“I just never was one, okay?” Gil whispered. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Ivan's arms tightened around him.

“I don't want you to pity me,” Gil whimpered. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't stop, he just couldn't anymore. “I know I'm a mess, I know it sucks, but I like sex. I'm good at it, I just...”

_Desperate, needy little whore._

“I will not pity you.”

“You don't have to lie to me,” Gil snapped. “I get it if you hate that I'm such a fucking whore.” He flinched as the word left his mouth and pushed Ivan away. Ivan's arms tightened.

Gil went rigid then collapsed against him and started sobbing. “I'm sorry, I wasn't going to – I'm not mad at you, please don't hurt me, don't make me go. Just hold me, I'll do whatever you want just don't...”

Ivan's arms draped loosely around his waist again. “I am not mad, you are safe Prussiya. I am not mad at you.”

Gil nodded against his chest and pulled himself into his lap. He flinched as he crossed over his groin, but Ivan wasn't aroused. There was his pubic hair and nothing else, nothing to remind him of how he felt like he shouldn't let Ivan hold him if they weren't having sex. He curled up in Ivan's lap with his arms around his back and let himself cry.

Ivan stroked his hand through his hair again, over and over. Gil clung to Ivan's arms, because he didn't want him to stop holding him. It was nice, just to sit with him. Gil bit his lip; he hadn't realized how much he'd missed when they would lie in bed like this for hours, too exhausted to do more than keep each other company.

Eventually, when he was calm enough the silence was starting to wear thin, Gilbert considered what he even wanted to talk about. “It was Erzsebet and Roderich,” he said.

Ivan's hand stopped on his hair. “What was?”

“When I lost my virginity. When I wanted to, I mean, after I wasn't a monastic order anymore.”

“Both of them?” Ivan asked. His hand dropped to Gil's back and traced the edge of his shoulder.

“Well they were already together,” Gil said. He stayed limp against him, not wanting him to stop. “I knew I liked her and trusted her, so... it was nice, having both of their attention.”

_A stupid little attention whore who'd fuck anyone that paid him a compliment._

“Anyways,” Gil swallowed. “She treated me well and that was nice too.”

“She is very protective of you,” Ivan agreed.

“She always has been,” Gil whispered. “Thanks for listening.”

Ivan sighed and kissed the top of his head. “I am happy to do so. I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks.” Gil turned up and smiled at him. “I like you too. I don't want to lose you.”

Ivan stared back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Gil got up before he worried about it more and wandered into the bathroom, shutting the door before Ivan could follow him in.

He should try and wake up properly now, and keeping Ivan around wasn't going to help with that. He climbed into the water and showered briskly, determined to be cheerful about this. Ivan hadn't made things worse. It was a small miracle.

 _Stupid fucking child that he was_.

He stared into the fogged up mirror as he scrubbed his hair dry and dropped the towel. He bared his teeth at the blurred reflection. He wasn't a child. He had never been innocent. (Never _allowed_ to be innocent, he repeated,because he _wasn't_ stupid.) He leaned onto the counter and wrote in the fog with his finger.

He wasn't a whore. He wasn't stupid. He was a fucking asshole, alright, and he finished the last word and underlined it again for emphasis.

_I am_ _ awesome _ _!_

He was tired of letting his mind tell him otherwise.

 


End file.
